


Princesses Come With Their Crowns On

by LadyBrettAshley



Category: This Is Where I Leave You (2014)
Genre: Begging, Come Shot, Cunnilingus, Established Relationship, F/M, Finger Sucking, Light Bondage, New Year's Eve, No Pregnancy, Orgasm Delay, Phillip Calls the Reader Princess, Phillip calls the reader slut once, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Wrists Tied with a Tie, come on breasts, no beta we die like men, three finger fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:21:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrettAshley/pseuds/LadyBrettAshley
Summary: It's New Year's Eve and Phillip wants to ring in the new year in bed with his princess... you.Phillip Altman x Female Reader
Relationships: Phillip Altman/You
Comments: 6
Kudos: 36





	Princesses Come With Their Crowns On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [beccastanz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/beccastanz/gifts).



> For Becca, the inspiration behind this fic and so many incredible h hours on Twitter!
> 
> Thank you for tweeting the following, "He’d put the crown on your head and tie your hands behind your back and say if it falls off you’re not allowed to come."
> 
> I initially wrote this as some quick timeline smut but it needed to be explored.

A thin layer of snow crunches beneath your feet with each step. The chilly night air stings your cheeks and has long since turned his nose and ears a shade of pink deeper than your party dress.

You can’t help but giggle, glancing at your tiny hand buried in the expanse of his massive paw. His individual fingers are so thick, they stretch the gaps between your own, causing the tendons to nearly ache when you close your own hand around his. Shivering, you squeeze him tighter and slither into his warmth while you walk.

Phillip pulls you suddenly and you stumble on your four-inch heels, but he catches you as your body sandwiches him against the uneven wall of a brownstone’s concrete steps. He’s smiling as he cups your face with one hand and brings your mouth to his. Even in heels, he has to bend significantly to meet your lips.

“Happy New Year,” he says.

You snatch the gold plastic crown from his head- a party favor from his sister’s bash- and place it atop your own head. 

“It’s not midnight yet,” you remind him. 

He unbuttons your peacoat as you adjust the crown. It’s _freezing_ outside, but when his huge, warm hands slip inside and roam the expanse of your abdomen, hips, and lower back, you’re suddenly overcome with warmth. 

Your eyes shift upwards and you bat your lashes obnoxiously. “How do I look?”

Phillip growls at you. “Like a fucking princess.” His hands plunge down your lower back and round the curve of your ass before he squeezes you roughly, grinding your pelvis against his. “Couldn’t wait another second to touch you. You’re _my_ princess.”

The possession that flickers in his eyes causes your body to lurch forward instinctively and you sigh. “Phillip, take me home,” you whine.

“Oh now you want to go home,” he teases. “But when I wanted to leave that party an hour ago…”

“Well, it wasn’t midnight yet,” you say, your lower lip jetting out.

He bends down to take it between his own lips, sucking it into his mouth and biting down on it. “It’s not midnight now,” he reminds you.

You roll your eyes and smirk at him. “Yeah, well you already got me to leave before twelve. So the least you can do is fuck me.”

Pushing you gently, he steps away from the wall and takes your hand in his again. He keeps his grip on you as you ascend the stairs to his apartment. 

He adjusts the crown on your head before slipping your peacoat off your shoulders and hanging it on the coat rack just inside the door. Phillip’s hands are immediately on your body again, roaming wildly with hungry palms and rushed fingers. Those hands have been your undoing since you met him.

And he knows it.

When he uses the wall this time, he’s pressing you into it, crowding your body with his own, but leaving enough room to grope your tits through your dress. It’s low-cut enough that you can feel his rough fingertips on the skin of your cleavage as he squeezes. 

“This fucking dress,” he groans. “Drove me crazy all damn night.”

A hand slips into the neckline and you exhale sharply as his fingers brush against your nipple, pointed from the cold, but hard from his touch. “And I knew you weren’t wearing a bra. Naughty girl.”

His smile contradicts his sentiment as he uses his free hand to tug the thin strap off one shoulder, and then the other. Your left leg finds its favorite position on his hip, and he lifts you with _one_ hand, keeping you pinned. He has to shimmy the form-fitting fabric down, but as soon as your tits are free and at eye-level, his mouth is on one, sucking at your nipple as though it will cure tomorrow’s champagne hangover. 

He sucks it hard enough that it hurts a bit because he knows you like it, but he would spend all day worshiping your tits if you let him. His pointed tongue flicks out against the hardened nub and he grins against your skin when you tangle your fingers in his soft hair and pull him against you. When you squeal, he bites at the hardened nub until finally, you push him off of you, but he takes your breast with his mouth as he steps back, placing you on your feet.

“Come on,” you say, grabbing at his tie and pulling him toward the bedroom. 

The front of his massive body collides into the back of yours and he huffs in your ear as you tow him by the silk tie over your shoulder.

With your dress caught on your hips, it’s easy for his fingers to slide beneath the fabric to tug it off and let it fall to the floor. Without missing a beat, you step out of it and release his tie before you take off running in your four-inch heels, black lace thong, and crown to his bedroom, giggling the entire way.

But his legs are longer than yours and he manages to catch you just in time to throw you onto your back on the bed, both of you laughing wildly. Your crown rolls off to the side and you promptly reach for it. Phillip smiles down at you as he reaches for the lace band of your thong.

Digging your heels into the mattress, you lift your hips and he pulls it down the length of your legs, planting a kiss to your ankle and tracing the top of your foot with a finger. 

“These stay on tonight,” Phillip demands, pumping the heel of your shoe in his closed palm.

You sit up, keeping your leg straight and allowing him to play with your stiletto as your fingers get to work on the buttons of his shirt. His chest is so hard and inviting under your gaze when you finally slide the shirt off of him. He undoes the knot of his tie with one hand and clutches it between his fingers before planting a knee between your bare legs on the bed.

He climbs up and around until he’s kneeling behind you. Gathering all of your curled hair into one hand, he pushes it over one shoulder and plants a kiss to the juncture of your neck. His lips continue their assault on your skin as he positions the crown firmly on top of your head once again. Chills shoot through your body as Phillip’s hands slide down the length of your arms and he clutches your wrists, pulling them both behind your back. 

“Is this okay?” he mumbles against your skin as he wraps the tie around your wrists.

“Yes,” you moan, and your sensual noise causes him to slip, tying the knot a little tighter than he probably meant to.

“That’s my good princess,” he says, double knotting it.

With one arm supporting your back and the other tucked under your knees, he lifts you gently to prop you up against the headboard and looks down at you with dark, stormy eyes. He’s fingering your shoes again, his eyes trailing up and down your bent legs as though he hadn’t seen them a million times before.

For as much as Phillip loves those heels on you, he’s clearly disappointed with how narrowly your legs are spread and he remedies that with a hand on each knee. 

“You want me to fuck you into the new year?” he asks, pulling your legs apart.

You bite your lip and nod, acutely aware of how on display your entire body is with your wrists tied behind your back.

“Beg for it.” 

But he’s impatient, and with your shoulders back, your chest is positioned too perfectly for his mouth to leave it alone. A second later, he’s sucking a bruise into the underside of your right breast and you let your head fall back, giving into him. 

“I’m waiting,” he says against your skin.

“Please, Phillip,” you say. “Please. I need _you_.”

While he sucks, his hand flattens on your calf and scales the length of your leg, stopping high on your inner thigh, before trailing back down. Your breath catches in your throat as he circles your ankle. 

“You need me to what?” he asks, his hand ascending your leg once more. 

“I need-” he stops and lets his fingertips drag across the sensitive skin in the junction between your thighs and outer folds. “I need you to touch me.”

“Here?” One finger strokes the length of your open cunt and you sigh, the pressure not nearly enough, and he knows it. “You’re so fucking wet.”

“Yes, there. Fuck... yes, Phillip, please.”

His mouth descends the length of your abdomen, leaving open mouthed kisses along the way, his tongue dipping briefly into your belly button. Continuing south, he showers your hip bones with tiny kisses as he gets settled. 

You feel his lips smirk against your inner thigh, his teeth scraping your sensitive skin as he spreads your legs open further. 

You try to keep your hips still but you need more.

“Beg for it,” he says. “Beg for my tongue.”

The crown slips down a bit when you look down at him.

He sees your priority is adjusting the crown, but he wants your attention on him.

His teeth sink into your thigh and you cry out, your back arching against the headboard.

“I said beg.”

The crown slips another inch.

“Please,” you whimper.

“Please what, princess?”

“Please make me come.”

He licks the skin between your thigh and center, following the path his fingers traversed a minute ago. “Does my Princess need to come on my tongue before I make her come on my cock?” he croons.

Your eyes fall shut at his words. “Mhmm.”

“That crown better not fall off,” he warns before flattening his tongue and licking a stripe up your cunt. You moan. “Because if it does, you’re _not_ coming.”

You open your eyes and swallow, looking down at him again.

The sharp features of his face are positioned so perfectly between your legs, his eyes on yours as his tongue slips out of his mouth and flicks at your clit repeatedly.

You’re already fairly close; you have been since arriving at the party at his sister’s lavish Upper East Side apartment, where he stole touches and fistfulls of you every chance he got. But you know this crown won’t last the whole trip if he makes you thrash even half as much as he normally does. 

“Fuck, you taste so good,” he murmurs and you moan, praying he’s too enthralled with his task at hand to notice the crown slide a bit more.

Your head moves less when you press against the headboard so you dig one stiletto deeper into the mattress while your other foot balances on his shoulder blade, the back of your heel digging into his muscle and push back, allowing it to take the brunt of your energy while his tongue thrusts in and out of you.

Normally, he stabilizes your hip or leg with a hand, but not tonight.

Pulling his mouth off of you, he asks, “how’s that crown, Princess?”

His eyes flick from the crown, halfway down your forehead, to your arms, bound behind your back with his black tie and he smirks. You’re certain the crown is hanging by a hair-sprayed thread at this point. Thank god you curled your hair tonight.

“Good,” you lie quickly. “So good, Phillip. Please don’t stop.”

“Looks like it’s falling off to me,” he teases. “Do you _really_ want to come?”

His hot breath on your soaked pussy drives you to thrust your hips toward his face and the crown slips a bit more.

He arches an eyebrow.

“Please.”

“I’ll tell you what,” he says, reaching to push the crown up. “I’ll give you some help. Cause I know...” he lowers that hand between your legs and prods your entrance with one finger, “once I’ve got _three_ fingers in you,” he presses the digit inside, “that thing is gonna go flying.”

“Ohh god,” you moan at the thought. 

“And you know the rule,” he says, withdrawing that finger to add a second. 

Phillip watches your face as he slowly pushes them inside of you. “No crown,” he drags them out tantalizingly slowly. “No come.”

His mouth engulfs your swollen clit a second later, sucking at it like a milkshake through a thin straw. He’s thrusting his two fingers in and out of you in tune with his mouth but you both know you need more.

And you know he’s right- that third finger is your kryptonite.

You’re trying exceptionally hard to keep still, but now he’s moaning into your cunt and the vibrations of his lips on your clit are almost more than you can handle. Your back arches against the headboard as you feel your orgasm start to build… if you can just balance the crown for a minute longer.

Your legs start to shake on either side of his head and you dig your foot deep into his shoulder blade, causing him to look up at you over your mound. His eye contact forces you to throw your head back and the crown slips several inches, catching just before it falls completely.

You’re so close... fuck... so... close.

And he knows it.

So he pulls his mouth off of you and your building orgasm fades away.

You cry out in frustration.

“Uh oh, Princess,” he says, his fingers pumping slowly into you. “Did the crown almost fall off?”

“No!” you promise. “Please, I was so close.”

He tsks. “Oh, I know. But princesses come with their crowns on, don’t they?”

“Yes,” you pant.

You tug at your bound hands, your arms growing sore and you can feel tears springing at the corners of your eyes.

“Please, Phillip.”

“Only because you asked so nicely,” he says before his mouth descends on your clit again.

Your orgasm starts to build once again, his lips and tongue relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. You thrust your hips into his face and he moans.

He knows what you need. 

So he withdraws his fingers only to add a third and stretches you almost painfully, giving your hole as much as it can handle. His thick digits split you wide open and send a sliver of pain down your legs and through your toes as he pummels your dripping hole.

Your body wants to curl in but you force it back to keep the crown steady.

“That's it, princess. Come for me,” he murmurs.

You fill your lungs with fresh oxygen as your hands clench into fists behind your back, the tie rubbing painfully against the skin of your wrists.

You nearly scream as your orgasm rakes up your body, the waves crashing back down to and through your center. Your back presses into the headboard as you thrust your hips repeatedly into his face. He laps up every bit of juice that drips for him, his fingers slowing to help you down.

You’re panting, looking at him over your heaving tits and realize-

The crown is still on your head.

He withdraws his fingers, cleaning them with his tongue and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before climbing up your body.

You’re out of breath, so he kisses your flushed chest, your throat, and your jaw whispering, “you’re so good. You did so well for me, princess.”

The crown falls to the side at this point and you couldn’t possibly care less as he stands up off the bed to unbuckle his belt. The sight of him licking you off his lips causes your already pulsing pussy to clench and once he’s fully naked, he kneels on the bed.

“Get up,” he tells you and you scurry to your knees as best you can with your wrists still tied. He turns your hips and grips onto the excess silk as he bends you over. With the side of your face buried into the comforter, your mascara no doubt staining the light grey fabric, you moan from anticipation.

Phillip clutches the binding tighter as he slides the head of his cock through your folds, drenching his length and pressing lightly against you. You know you’re dripping down your own thighs at this point, but he continues to tease you, nudging your clit.

“Please fuck me,” you beg. “Please, I need you, Phillip, I need-”

You nearly scream as he grips your hip with his free hand and finally fills you in one thrust, his pelvis slamming into your ass as he bottoms out without warning. “So tight,” he grunts as he pulls back and thrusts into you again. “Fuck, you feel so good.”

He usually gives you time to adjust to his size, but not tonight. His desperation kicks in as he begins pounding into you, and the slap of his skin against yours stings, but you’re unable to feel anything other than how absolutely full of his cock you are.

The hand on your silk handcuffs is losing control, you can feel him jerking it back and forth as he picks up the pace. “You’re so good,” he praises. “My perfect little slut, bent over for me with her hands tied, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you manage to get out and you don’t even realize his hand has left your hip and removed his tie from around your wrists until your hands fall limp at your sides. 

“I’m gonna fuck you into the new year, like I promised,” he says, one finger tracing the length of your spine from the Atlas bone in your neck to your tail bone. “But I want to see your face when you come on my cock.”

Your hands are weak when you plant them on the mattress to lift yourself up. Shakily, you rise to your knees and he’s already reaching for you, wrapping a hand around your waist to guide you into his lap.

You position yourself over his crossed legs as he lines the tip of his dick up with your entrance and you impale yourself on him, your head falling back as his hips instinctively thrust up into yours. 

Crossing your ankles behind his back, he gives you almost no time to adjust before he’s rolling his hips beneath you, pushing deeper inside of you. “Fuck, your tits are so damn perfect,” he says, engulfing as much of one as he can fit into his mouth. “I could suck on them all day.”

You whimper and squeak as pleasure surges from the pain of his forceful mouth and shoots down your body, pooling at your center. As Phillip lavishes your tits with attention, your orgasm builds, and he keeps his thrusts consistent, deep, and strong, rolling your opposite nipple between his fingers.

When he moans into your breast, you lose it. Your head falls back as your orgasm rips through you, your walls clenching down so hard on him, you’re afraid you’ll push him out somehow. 

But he has a hand on your hip, and he’s pushing you down harder so he can hit you deeper, and his pinches grow in intensity, and when he bites down on your nipple, you scream his name, and he keeps thrusting up into you.

You’re panting when you look down at him and you can see him smirking against your flushed chest. 

“You’re so fucking gorgeous when you come,” he says, and drops the hand from your breast to your hip so he can pick you up and drop you on him exactly how ne needs until he swells inside of you. “Fuck, baby.”

With a groan, Phillip starts to fill you but takes you by surprise and lifts you effortlessly off of him, tossing you onto your back as he rises to his knees. Your stilettos rest flat on the bed at the end of your bent legs and he kneels over you, some of his come hitting the duvet and your stomach as he pumps his cock with his own hand. But most of it hits his target- your chest. It splashes against your heaving tits and you can’t help but moan at the warmth of his spend on your skin. 

Philip smears his slippery come, finger-painting around and over your nipples. When you make eye contact with him, he lifts his fingers to your mouth and you take _both_ between your lips, savoring the salty taste of him while you suck and swirl your tongue around and between his digits. He groans, watching you suck on his fingers like a Jolly Rancher, before putting in a dedicated effort to cleaning you up with tissues from a conveniently placed box on his nightstand.

When he sits back on his haunches, he sees the initial shot of come drip from your pussy as he carefully undoes the tiny strap wrapped around your ankle, his fingers almost too large to slip it through the buckle, and eases the shoe from your right foot before repeating his actions with the left.

His eyes shift to his watch as he lazily scoops the dripping come with two fingers and stuffs it back into your spent hole. "This stays," he says as those fingers graze your overstimulated clit and you whimper.

Phillip smirks, covering your flushed body with his and lowers some of his warm, welcome weight onto you. His mouth hovers just an inch above yours; you can smell yourself and the champagne on his lips when he says, “Happy New Year.”

You smile, cupping the side of his face in your hand. He leans into your touch and grins. “Happy New Year, Phillip. It’s gonna be a good one.”

“It’s gonna be a _great_ one,” he corrects. “My princess.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Happy New Year, princess! I hope you enjoyed this & would love to know your thoughts!
> 
> Im on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/UHadMeAt_Reylo) if you wanna say hi!


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